


Xenophilia

by anon_decepticon



Category: Transformers, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Humor, Interspecies, M/M, Other, Robot Sex, Slash, Sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-25
Updated: 2009-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 18:16:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anon_decepticon/pseuds/anon_decepticon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tracks gets shrunk, and doesn't like it. Raoul is there to help. Contains canon references to the G1 cartoon episodes <i>"Make Tracks,"</i> and <i>"Microbots,"</i> human/mech sticky sex, crude language and mature humor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Xenophilia

**Author's Note:**

> **Alternate title:** "Making Tracks"  
> **Disclaimer**: I don't own Transformers. If I did, look what I'd do with them!  
> My second offering to the kink meme. This is the wicked little fic that stole my pornginity. As perverse as it is, I'm strangely proud of it. It didn't really match up to the original prompt, but the idea grabbed me by the throat and just wouldn't let go.

**Xenophilia**

"Transma-_what_?" Raoul asked distractedly into the cordless phone in his left hand while continuing to manipulate the socket wrench in his right. It was a struggle to divide his attention between the car he was supposed to be working on and the car that was currently railing at him over the phone, but he considered Tracks a friend, and Tracks was obviously upset, so he made the effort. If Tracks needed to vent, Raoul would listen.

"Transmat Reduction Beam," Tracks repeated in an aggrieved tone. "One of Perceptor's more idiotic inventions."

"And this, uh, Transma-thing..._shrank_ you?"

"Yes," Tracks replied in a distinctly condescending manner, his tone suggesting that this was perfectly obvious and Raoul must be some kind of idiot for failing to grasp it immediately. Like shrink rays were found on every street corner, and this sort of thing happened all the time. Raoul rolled his eyes, a soft grunt escaping him as he gave the wrench one last good twist.

"What are you doing?" Tracks demanded.

Raoul straightened and tossed the wrench back into his toolbox before replying. "I'm _working_. You know, at that job you got me? Sparkplug's Garage?" _Forced me to take is more like it._ "Or I _was_. But I figured I'd better drop everything and listen to you, instead." Raoul could do sarcasm, too.

"Yes, you should," Tracks affirmed, like the narcissist he was. "And don't interrupt again, because I really need your full attention. As I was saying, I got a bit banged up in the last battle, but since it wasn't serious and some of the others were even worse off, Ratchet foisted my repairs off onto Perceptor. _Perceptor!_ Not even Wheeljack or Hoist! And of course that egghead scientist insisted on using that ridiculous invention of his on me first. Because I was "too big" for him to work on. He's a slagging _microscope_! Anything larger than a molecule is too big for _him_!"

Raoul's eyebrow rose in spite of himself. Tracks had clearly worked up quite a head of steam over this. Suppressing a sigh, he asked, "Okay, so then what happened?"

"_Then_ those moronic Dinobots got in a brawl in the middle of the repair bay and damaged the Beam. So instead of being restored to my normal stunning stature, I'm stuck being waist-high to a minibot! It's absolutely mortifying."

Struggling not to smirk at the thought of a teeny-tiny Tracks, Raoul cut right to the heart of the matter, because friend or not, he needed to finish up before closing time. "So why are you calling _me_?"

"Because," Tracks replied in that annoying you-must-be-an-idiot tone, "Prime took me off active duty until Perceptor and Wheeljack have that infernal machine repaired, and I have no intention allowing myself to be made into a source of never-ending amusement to that wretched pack of cyber-clowns."

Raoul couldn't help but perk up at that. "You mean you're coming here? Back to New York?" Sure, Tracks was a jerk, but Raoul liked the bombastic 'Bot for some reason. He couldn't really explain it. Tracks was just...cool.

Tracks seemed to pick up on his enthusiasm, because his tone warmed slightly. "Yes. Since I'm on what amounts to an enforced vacation, I thought I'd pay you a visit."

"Cool, man!" Raoul grinned. Cruising around NYC in a sleek Corvette sounded a hell of a lot better than another night in his apartment with a TV dinner and _Cheers_. "When d'you think you'll get here?"

"I should be there within the hour," Tracks replied.

"All right, man, I'll be waiting." Raoul set the phone aside and returned to his previous task with renewed vigor. He had to finish before Tracks arrived.  


* * *

  
Raoul had heard the expression _rolling on the floor laughing_ before, but he'd never actually experienced it in reality. Okay, so he wasn't actually _rolling_, but he was having a heck of a time staying on his feet.

Tracks had just pulled in to Sparkplug's Garage, and when Raoul had caught sight of him, he'd just plain lost it. The Autobot who had previously been the hottest ride this side of the Eastern Seaboard was now roughly the size of a go-cart, and every bit as imposing. First Raoul had stared. Then he'd snorted. Then he'd doubled over in a paroxysm of hysterical laughter.

Tracks revved his engine irritably. "I'm so glad you find my condition so amusing," he commented dryly. "It's really _gratifying_ to have a friend that takes such pleasure in my abject humiliation."

Raoul gasped for breath, managing to choke out, "I'm - I'm sorry, man, it's just – just – _Pow-Pow, Power Wheels!_" before breaking up again.

Tracks paused for what was no doubt just long enough to look up the reference, then replied, "Oh, ha, ha. _Very_ amusing," and proceeded to transform.

Tracks being in his robot mode helped. No longer being confronted with the sight of a miniature Stingray, Raoul was able to get his initial reaction under control. Not that it wasn't still an interesting sight to see; he was accustomed to a Tracks that towered over him like an intimidating, pompous blue mountain. He approached the only-slightly-larger-than-human-sized 'Bot with undisguised curiosity.

"Wow. When you said you got shrunk, you weren't kidding, were you?" he said. Tracks eyed him warily as Raoul circled around him, checking out his newly-minimized proportions. Raoul completed his circuit and stood in front of him, meeting Tracks eye-to-optic for the first time ever, and smirked. "You know, I think I'm actually taller than you now."

Those same optics widened in outrage. "You are NOT!" Tracks retorted with obvious affront.

Raoul chuckled at his reaction. "Yeah, I'm not," he conceded. "But you _are_ a lot smaller. I guess going out for a ride is outta the question, huh?" _Unless I sit on the roof_, his brain added, and he suppressed a snicker at the mental image. Tracks looked pissed off enough as it was, and Raoul thought it unwise to yank his chain any further.

"Obviously," Tracks replied crisply. "At this puny size I can't do much of anything. That's the whole reason Prime took me off active duty in the first place."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it right there, man," Raoul said. "You saying just because you're _my_ size now, you're useless? Cause I seem to recall this "puny" human saving your giant butt more than once, not to mention fucking up that Megatron dude that one time. So maybe you just better watch what you say about us "puny" folks, huh?"

Tracks actually had the grace to look embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Raoul. I didn't mean it like _that._ It's just..." suddenly Tracks was speaking faster, as if a floodgate had opened, pouring forth a deluge of words from his vocalizer. "It's just that I'm not _used_ to being like this! Everything's a lot _bigger_ from this perspective. Too big! And it's so _frustrating_! At first I thought I could just wait until the effect wore off, but then Perceptor told me he'd "corrected" that effect after the whole Heart of Cybertron incident, because it made the Beam too _dangerous_, apparently. I went back to my quarters, but I couldn't even reach my own _berth_, I had to _fly_ here because I'm too small for the roads, and _Bumblebee_ patted me on the _head-!_"

Raoul's smirk faded over the course of Tracks' tirade, and by the end of it he was patting him comfortingly on the shoulder – he could actually _reach_ Tracks' shoulder now – and saying, "Yeah, man, I hear ya. That's gotta be rough."

Tracks huffed through his vents, but accepted the sympathy. Raoul felt downright bad for him now, and in an effort to cheer him up, said, "Look on the bright side: you always said you like hanging out with us humans, right? Well now you really can, cause you can fit in all the places we do. There's a lot of things you can do that you couldn't before. We could go out on the town –"

"I'm sorry Raoul, but frankly I don't want to be seen like this in public. It's just too embarrassing."

"So we'll stay in, then. Rent a movie or something. I could show you my apartment. Bet you've never seen what a human pad looks like on the inside."

Raoul was really trying, and maybe the effort was what persuaded the depressed Autobot. Or maybe he really was curious about what a human's living quarters were like. Whatever the reason, Tracks agreed to go with him. Fortunately Raoul's apartment was located within walking distance.  


* * *

  
"Well, this is it," Raoul announced as he unlocked the door and waved the Autobot inside. "Home sweet home."

Tracks glanced around, taking in the cluttered living room, the sagging sofa, and the assortment of glossy posters decorating the walls, featuring attractive human females draped over the hoods of exotic sports cars. "Classy."

Raoul hunched his shoulders defensively, stuffing his keys back into his pocket. "Hey, if I'd known you were coming, I'd have cleaned up the place."

"I should hope so," Tracks replied imperiously.

Rolling his eyes at the snooty Autobot, Raoul stalked into the living room and flopped down onto the couch. "I guess I can't offer you a beer. You want anything else? WD-40? Turtle Wax?" he asked, smirking.

"Now that you mention it, I wouldn't say no to a good polish. It's been an absolutely _hideous_ day."

Raoul groaned. He'd walked right into that one. But hey, what were friends for? Besides, Tracks had demonstrated in the past that he believed in repaying favors; if Raoul went above and beyond now, Tracks was sure to be grateful once he was restored to his normal size. He'd probably be more than willing to spend a day or two cruising around town with Raoul. God knows Tracks loved showing off anyway. Raoul hauled himself back to his feet and went in search of a bottle of car polish and a sponge, saying, "Okay man, but I'm only doing this because you're such a drag to be around when you're in a bad mood."

Tracks seemed startled by his willingness to comply. "Raoul, I was _joking_. I don't really expect you to –"

"Don't worry about it, man," Raoul interrupted. "You're having a rough day, and you're my friend. Friends help each other out."

"But it's really not necessary –"

"No arguing, okay? Just park it on the rug there." Indicating a spot on the floor in front of the sofa, Raoul turned back to the closet and resumed rummaging around inside it. A moment later, having successfully located the items he was looking for, he turned back to find Tracks sitting cross-legged on the carpet, looking more than a little discomfited.

"This ought to do the trick," Raoul commented as he clambered past Tracks to settle on the couch once more, which positioned him roughly behind the Autobot and within easy reach of his shoulders. "Just you wait, we'll have you cheered up in no time."

"Raoul, I'm not sure this is such a good idea," Tracks protested as the youth squirted polish on his sponge and began working on the high cowling surrounding the Autobot's helm. "Portions of my frame are extremely sensitive..."

"_Sensitive_? Dude, you're made of metal!"

"Metal plating, yes, but that plating is overlaid with an vast network of sensory circuits, some of which are very highly attune—" Tracks broke off with a gasp, the air hissing through his intakes as Raoul shifted his attention to the small white wings projecting from the Autobot's back.

Raoul laughed at his reaction and began rubbing more firmly. "Man, you are _such_ a baby."

Tracks' only response was an odd mechanical whimper, so Raoul relented, abandoning the wing he was working on and shifting around to stand in front of the Autobot. Placing a hand on Tracks' shoulder-tire to brace himself, Raoul began polishing the yellow panel and red insignia emblazoned on his chestplate with firm, circular strokes. He was a little surprised when Tracks shuddered and arched into him, pressing against his hand like a cat demanding to be petted, but Raoul shrugged and went with it. At least Tracks had stopped complaining.

It wasn't until Tracks _moaned_ and grabbed his hand, dragging it down towards his crotch that Raoul started to get an inkling that the Authobot might be enjoying his efforts a little _too_ much. Pulling back in surprise, he blurted out, "Whoa, dude! Are you _getting off_ on this?!"

Tracks groaned in disappointment as Raoul jerked away, his engine revving as he pleaded, "_Oh_, don't stop - _so good-!"_ in a voice suddenly laden with static.

Raoul stared at the trembling mech in utter shock. The heavy, rhythmic sound of air heaving through Tracks' vents dominated the room, and stunned as he was, Raoul couldn't deny the sudden surge of heat in his loins, or the way his jeans became abruptly tighter at the sight of the Autobot in such an obvious state of arousal. One of his favorite (and guiltiest) fantasies involved banging a hot babe in Tracks' backseat, and he'd be lying if he claimed that the knowledge that Tracks was alive and fully aware of what was going on inside him hadn't factored heavily in that fantasy's erotic appeal.

But he'd never imagined doing anything of the sort with the _real_ Tracks – Tracks was, after all, a giant _robot._ A giant _alien_ robot. More importantly, a _male_ giant alien robot. But at the moment Tracks was anything but giant, and from his reaction the whole alien robot thing wasn't quite the divisive issue Raoul had assumed it would be. His shoulders slumped slightly, the tension in his muscles draining away as he absorbed the implications of his sudden revelation.

Perhaps taking his lack of rejection as a signal of assent, Tracks once more tugged at his hand, drawing it again towards his crotch. Too stunned to resist, Raoul allowed Tracks to press his hand against the heated panel there, which opened with a soft *click* at the slightest twitch of his fingers.

He _had_ to look. Seriously, how could he not? How often does the average person get the opportunity to see what kind of equipment a giant alien robot is packing? So Raoul looked. And _stared._

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. It wasn't human by any stretch of the imagination. Exposed circuitry intermittently giving off little sparks of electricity, and a pair of circular metal...ports, or outlets, or something – the upper one closed, the lower open. Driven by sheer curiosity, Raoul traced a cautious fingertip around the edge of one, then the other.

Tracks practically _sobbed_ in response, gripping his shoulder and leaning into him, trying to increase the stimulation. The sight of the normally urbane, sophisticated – okay, _snobby_ \- Autobot reduced to a mass of quivering, desperate _need_ was an incredible turn on, and Raoul found his pulse quickening in response.

"Raoul..._please..!_" Tracks whimpered, and the human found himself more than a little tempted to comply.

But the little head hadn't _completely_ taken over for the big one. That opening Tracks was sporting looked about the right size, sure, but who knew what might be lurking inside it? The brief mental image of his dick getting crushed in Tracks' robo-snatch was enough to make his budding erection wilt a little. So after hesitantly tracing the rim again, Raoul slid a tentative finger inside, wary of grinding gears and sharp protrusions. The soft, vaguely rubbery sheath that met his exploring finger was not at all what he'd been expecting, nor was the way Tracks moaned as Raoul felt around inside him. Intrigued but still wary, Raoul added a second finger and probed deeper. Tracks' inner walls were lined with a series of concentric ridges, and the thought of what _that_ would feel like brought his flagging hard-on back to full attention.

Far from immune to his efforts, Tracks was alternately moaning his name and grinding his hips against Raoul's hand. Raoul withdrew his fingers and peered at them thoughtfully, only distantly aware of Tracks' whimper of protest. They were coated with a clear, slick substance that smelled vaguely like petroleum jelly. Raoul eyed them speculatively a moment, then looked to the Autobot who was presently clutching at his shoulder, panting through his intakes. Was he seriously contemplating this? Was he _really_?

Apparently Tracks thought so, because he began tugging at Raoul's jeans, trying to navigate the unfamiliar territory of human clothing while half-blinded by naked lust. Maybe he'd noticed the increase in Raoul's body temperature, or the unmistakable bulge in his jeans – in the end it hardly mattered, which is what Raoul concluded when Tracks' heated metal fingers wrapped possessively around his swollen cock.

Now it was Raoul's turn to moan as Tracks stroked him fully erect, and all the little internal doubts and arguments he'd been entertaining suddenly didn't seem all that important anymore.

Tracks' voice was low and husky with static when he finally spoke. "Raoul, I want you. I want you inside me. Please say yes."

What else _could_ he say?

Tracks' engine rumbled as he eased back onto the floor. Raoul followed him down, the sensation of Tracks' warm, smooth metal thighs gliding past his naked hips making his dick throb in anticipation. With Tracks guiding him, Raoul eased into the slick, searing port with a shuddering groan. Tracks' intakes hitched as the young man settled against him, and Raoul flinched at the sound. "Did that hurt?" he asked.

Desire had darkened Tracks' optics to indigo, but now they glinted with amusement. "I'm not that fragile, Raoul," he replied archly. "I sincerely doubt you could possibly hurt me."

Raoul raised an eyebrow at that. "Good to know," he said, and began to thrust.

At first faltering and uncertain, Raoul quickly found his rhythm. God, it felt _amazing_. Tracks' port, or whatever it was, was warm and wet, and exquisitely tight. Those ridges Raoul had noted before created a delicious friction that grew with every pump of his hips, and an electric charge was steadily building between them, making his skin tingle and his hair stand on end. Tracks was surging beneath him, hip plate rising with each stroke, arms wrapped around him almost painfully tight, metal fingers digging hard into his back, and then something inside Tracks _flexed_ and Raoul nearly lost it right then and there, his spine bowing as he cried out in ecstasy, "_Oh, God-!"_

He hoped Tracks didn't do that again. God, he prayed that he would.

Heart pounding, gasping for breath, Raoul paused, trying to regain some measure of control. It wasn't easy, what with Tracks squirming under him and pleading for him to _move, Primus, give it to him, 'face him into the floor_, and Raoul's thoughts were swirling in a chaotic sea of lust and need and disbelief at the utter surreality of it all.

He was fucking _Tracks_. He was _fucking_ Tracks. Taking a deep breath, he resumed his previous pace.

Tracks groaned approvingly, and _oh_, how _erotic_ was it to hear that smooth, cultured voice urging him on? "Mmmmm, _yes_, Raoul, _just_ like that, don't stop-" and he was getting so _close_, he didn't think he could hold out much longer, not with Tracks' engine revving and vibrating his entire body like that, and then Tracks moaned, "Wings – touch my _wings_ –" and Raoul did, seizing hold of them like a lifeline and the Autobot _shrieked_, arching and jerking beneath him.

At that same moment the electric charge that had been building between them surged and peaked, washing over Raoul in a hot, crackling wave that made every muscle in his body spasm so hard it _hurt_, but that was alright, because it also triggered his orgasm, one so intense and explosive that ten seconds later he was _still_ shooting his load.

Raoul's body was still twitching with fading spasms as he collapsed atop the Corvette, panting. The heavy organic scent of sex hung in the air, mingling with the tang of hot metal and a faint whiff of ozone. For a long moment the only sounds in the room were Raoul's labored breathing, Tracks' vents cycling down, and the steady tick-tick of cooling metal.

It was Tracks who spoke first, his vocalizer still carrying a lingering hint of static. "It seems you were right, Raoul," he said. "There _are_ some advantages to being this size."

Raoul struggled to push himself up enough to meet Tracks' optics, grinning a goofy grin of stated exhaustion. "Hey, man. You know what I always say: _'Some guys got the juice_...'"

"Yes," Tracks commented wryly. "About that..."

***fin***


End file.
